Tell Me How You First Met
by The Cure
Summary: A small town girl arrives in the Big Apple with a suitcase full of determination to make it big; a temperamental composer meets the girl of his dreams at a bustling airport-love is a funny thing.


Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.

Hey everyone, sorry I haven't written in awhile. I guess I've had writer's block with Erik and Christine, especially with my two stories, _Understand It All_ and _A Phantom Christmas Story_. I'll explain it all later on, but right now I'm supposed to be studying for a test (sheepish smile). Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter anyways! God bless. -Liane

* * *

She made it.

She really made it.

Of course there was the question of where she was going to sleep for the next few months. But hey; she would figure that out later. For right now, she allowed herself the momentary swell of pride-Christine Daae, a small town girl, had made it to the Big Apple.

And tomorrow, she was going to march into that audition and show them what she was made of. Months and months of practice were going to pay off, and then she would sing up there on stage.

"Crap."

...Just as soon as she found her suitcase.

* * *

Erik was an impatient man. And he did not bear the kind of impatience that caused taxi drivers to honk at the traffic, or parents to run several miles away from their screaming 5-year olds. Quite the contrary; if he did not arrive at the Metropolitan Opera House in an hour and a half, those incompetent idiots he called chauffeurs and personal assistants would be looking for employment.

"Charles!" He barked, startling the young driver from the latest issue of Sports Illustrated.

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Tell Nadir that if he doesn't get over here in five minutes, we'll be leaving his sorry arse behind."

Charles eyes widened considerably. Nadir had been an employee of Mr. Destler for as long as he could remember. For years, if Erik was waving his arms around, Nadir would be there with a Scotch. If Erik was yelling at a conductor who was supposedly, "butchering" his masterpieces, Nadir would be there with a check and a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. If Erik was making death threats? No problem; Nadir would be there to make sure all the evidence was destroyed.

Some would even consider them-albeit, reluctant-friends.

"Right away, sir."

* * *

_Where was it?_

Thirty minutes had passed by, and Erik's suitcase was nowhere to be found. _No, no, no, no, no. _Nadir pinched the bride of his nose, and inhaled sharply. This was not good. Auditions were starting in a hour and a half, and if he didn't know any better, Erik would be here with that familiar noose of his.

_Ring Ring._

Well, speak of the devil.

He planned to change his ring tone for his employer someday. Preferably to something morbid, such as "Man In the Long Black Coat." _God knows it would certainly fit the man._

"How are you doing, Erik?"

"Not so well, Nadir," His employer barked back. "Where is that bag you insisted we take with us?"

"You know, Erik, by the end of today you'll be thanking me before you go to sleep, when you find that you actually have something to brush your teeth with." The last time they came here, all hell broke loose when Erik realized that he had no toothbrush...or underwear.

A long silence followed the statement, and his mouth twitched. Apparently, Erik remembered the incident as well.

"You better hope that you have that bag in hand when I get over there, Nadir."

_Click._

Nadir winced. That man sure knew how to make water freeze in June. Maybe he shouldn't have gone too far with the toothbrush comment.

* * *

Erik knew he should have just fired Nadir on the spot.

Crowds were pressing him by all sides, an experience only NY airports could offer. It was no wonder he hated flying over here. The bustling people, blaring lights, and sounds were enough to send him back to his quiet villa in the French country.

"Excuse me, _excuse me_," A woman muttered to no one in particular, as she lugged her three suitcases and six children through the mass, brushing past him roughly in the process.

"But why, mommy?" One of her little girls wailed. "Why?"

This was too much, he realized. His breathing was starting to slow, only arriving in small, shortened gasps. There was only one thing to be certain now-he needed to leave before it happened. Now. What an idiot he was; in his haze of impatience, he forgot how many other times he had these attacks.

_Just turn around, and you can leave, _his mind said reassuringly._ It's not too far from the limo..._

Rational as it could be at times, even his mind was wrong; he was not going to make it. His body refused to cooperate, and soon he was gasping for air again. But it wasn't the attack that made his legs turn into jelly this time; nor was it the crowds of people that made his heart stop cold in it's tracks.

She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in particular, heading straight for the luggage area. To anyone else, she probably looked like any, ordinary passenger, hoping to get out of this god-forsaken airport. Her brown, curly hair was tucked into a messy bun, her shoes looked worn out from too much walking, and her dark green blouse had a tiny stain of mustard on the sleeve.

But to Erik, she was absolutely stunning.

Suddenly, his legs came to life, and soon he found himself following her, anxiety attacks, auditions, and lost bags all but forgotten.

_Nadir, this is your lucky day..._

* * *

(A/N: To all who are curious about Nadir's ring tone, the song was written by Bob Dylan.)


End file.
